Never Play With Potion
by Crimson Archer
Summary: When Nawat decides to mess with an odd potion, he inadvertantly begins to raise the dead, friend and foe alike. Now he, Aly, and Alanna, along with the now-living Thom must prevent chaos. . . mwahahaha. . .


Never Play With Potion

A Tortall Fic by RavynArcher

Author's Note–

This is my first Tortall fic ever, and I'm quite partial to Thom and Nawat. Thus, you really must forgive me if I'm a bit biased in their appearances. Hee hee. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Coresia was the new, relatively inexperienced half-raka mage in the service of spymaster Aly of Pirate's Swoop. The one thing she excelled at, however, was potions. Her nimble hands seemed created to concoct truth potions, sleeping potions, whatever type of diabolic mixture the duani desired. But one thing she didn't know, being a newcomer, was never to leave a bottle of shiny liquid in the sight of a crow-man.

Her "laboratory" was in the basement of the duani's house, dank and dark like a dungeon. But this was not the problem. In fact, Coresia was often compared to a bat. She thrived in the basement, her almost luarin-like pale skin being stark proof of that fact. The problem started one sunny summer afternoon. . .

"Coresia!" The young mage groaned. It was Nawat, that overly curious pest. He was always too happy, even for the husband of the Royal Spymaster of the Kyprin Isles and father of a beautiful 4-year-old girl, Kypria, who had been named thus mainly to aggravate a certain vain god. Cheerfulness annoyed Coresia, especially seeing as she rarely possessed it herself.

"You're wanted upstairs," Nawat informed her casually. Coresia stifled a scowl. Nawat took nothing seriously. He was currently leaning over the bannister, his lanky body ready to tumble headfirst onto the hard floor. 'Nawat, you idiot,' Coresia thought, and silently stalked up the stairs, leaving her sparkling turquoise vial truth serum in the plain view of Nawat Crow.

- - -

"Wow, now THAT'S a sparkly!" Nawat whispered. The vial of liquid twinkled, a tantalizing shade of vibrant aqua with shiny bubbles that winked brilliantly at him even in the dim candelit basement. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was by far the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Man or not, this was the ultimate sparkly, the shiny of all shinies, the Uber Twinkly.

He just HAD to touch it.

Carefully, silently, he crept down the stairs, not letting that beautiful shiny escape his sight. A mischievous grin crossed his face as another idea came to him. He could "borrow" the sparkly. He'd give it back in a year or two, of course, once the grumpy mage girl forgot about it. And, of course, after he poked it a bit.

At last, he reached the sparkly. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a shiny button he had found a few years back, fallen off of Aly's mother's shirt. There was still a knot of Alanna's red hair in it, but Nawat thought it pretty and kept it there.

Suddenly, an even more fun idea occured to him. If the button was shiny, and the Uber Twinkly was sparkly, he could plop the button in the twinkly and make an Uber Shiny-Twinkly! It would be beautiful! It would be marvelous! It would be grand! He would love it as his own child! Well maybe not. One nestling, he decided, was quite enough. But this! This was perfect!

So, Nawat dropped the button into the vial. PLOP! A little poof of purple smoke fizzed out. Nawat gasped in astonishment as the button disintegrated. This was not part of the plan. Slowly, the brilliant turquoise turned a deep, soulful purple, much like Aly's mother's eyes. The bottle began to overflow with purple foam, spewing smoke everywhere, clouding the vision of the entire room. Nawat began to panic, coughing and sputtering. He couldn't see the stairs or the sparkly now, only purplish smoke. There was a loud crash, and Nawat somehow knew the bottle had exploded.

And then, he saw a figure standing before him. It was only the vague outline of a figure, but it had definitely not been there before. It was slender and tall, apparently male. As the smoke cleared, Nawat made out the coppery red hair that framed the young man's features and the piercing, inquisitive amethyst gaze that met his own chocolate-brown eyes. He looked remarkably familiar, sort of like Aly, but more like someone else.

Then it hit him. He gasped, jumping back in horror and shock. He knew birds could become men, but he had no idea that _women_ could.

"Oh, gods!" he cried. "Aly, come quick! It's your mother, but she's turned herself into a _guy!_" With that, the fumes of the potion and the shock of the situation finally got to him, and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"That's funny," Thom of Trebond murmured, glancing at the fallen crow-man. "I don't recall ever being a woman, or having a daughter named Aly, for that matter." Suddenly, an awful realization hit him as well. "In fact, last _I_ remember, I was rather. . . dead." Pondering this, he turned to the stairs, only to meet the royal spymaster of the Kyprin Isles, the niece he never knew he'd ever have.

- - -

Alanna the Lioness was home on leave, but her mind was not at ease. She was preoccupied with the odd auras she had sensed along the Kyprin Isles.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on down there, George?" she asked for about the fifth time in ten minutes.

Her husband turned to her, a tired smile on his face. "Save the odd new mage that our darling daughter failed to cover up, my spies have found nothing, Alanna. Relax."

Alanna scowled. "It started with the new mage, didn't it? These odd magics. They must be really off to affect me like this from that far away. No typical potion-maker, I'll bet."

"It's raka magic, Mother," one of her sons informed her, not looking up from his huge tome of spells. "It's bound to be odd. That's its purpose."

"Well, I don't like it," Alanna replied stubbornly.

Suddenly, all three of them felt an extraordinary surge of power, especially Alanna and her son, who were so affected that they nearly fell to the ground. It felt as if the world was splitting apart, their Gifts were so shrieking in alarm. Something was horribly amiss, it was clear. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

And it all felt like it was coming from the Kyprin Isles.

Shakily rising, Alanna leaned against the table to support herself. "That's _it,_" she said firmly. "George, get someone to pack my bags. I'm going to the Kyprin Isles and getting to the bottom of this."

"They'll need you in battle, dear," George reminded her coolly. "And Aly won't be pleased with your sudden arrival. . ."

"And you think I care? Something is amiss, and as a knight it is my duty to right it!" There was something about Alanna that George hadn't seen in years. It was the old belief that she could right all the world's wrongs alone, the old vigor and energy she had when she was younger, before Duke Roger's return from the dead, even. It was almost chilling, even in its niceness.

George was not liking the looks of this at all, but he knew that when Alanna got an idea, it was nearly impossible to talk her out of it. Sighing, he rose from his chair and summoned a servant to help Alanna prepare for the long journey to the Kyprin Isles.


End file.
